Captain of Her Heart Ch. 04

The flight was very smooth. Okay, I'll have to admit it. The flight was smoother than it had been under Captain Jack's capable hands. We reached London on time and had no issues with passengers. With everyone disembarked, Christa and I went through our regular after-flight routine and within two hours, the plane was again spic-and-span and was ready for the morning flight. We grabbed our overnight bags and headed down the walkway, heading for our hotel room.

"Want to go out tonight?"

"I don't know." Christa laughed. "Last time I went out with you, I got into trouble."

"Yeah, but it was fun trouble." I smiled, remembering my super-straight colleague finding herself the lamb between two hungry lesbians. She didn't think it was funny and they didn't, either, not when they found out that she was not bent. "We got out without getting hurt."

We got our room and I changed into my evening wear: short, zippered leather skirt, frilled red blouse and sensible three-inch patent leather pumps. A little make-up, a lot of hair gel and I was ready to find a pussy to fuck. Christa and I went out to dinner, her choice this time, so I got stuck with sushi. Thank God they had some cooked selections. I joked that I only ate fresh fish and Christa burst out laughing so hard that she spewed rice. We toasted with plum wine and I escorted her back to the room, giggling as I tucked my drunk friend in and left her snoring.

I gave the front desk a wake-up call for five and jumped into a cab. He dropped me at the Candy Bar in Soho and I strode in, ordered a double Bushmills and started cruising. English gay clubs always struck me as being strange. The culture was different and that made the whole experience strange. The girls seemed to be the same, although when I danced with a few, the sight of unshaven armpits threw me for a loop. You'd have thought that with as many times as I'd been here, I would have been acclimated to that but it still came as a shock.

I ordered a shot of tequila and found an empty spot on the wall. I wasn't sure if I was hallucinating when I saw her. The Ice Princess herself, done up in a military body suit with a shiny patent leather German military hat cocked on her head. She stood against the wall on the other side of the hallway, watching me with calculating eyes and releasing smoke slowly from her nostrils. I threw back my shot as she detached herself from the wall and walked over to me.

"Fancy meeting you here."

"You're late." She barked with a smile.

"I had dinner with Christa."

"Is she here?"

"No. She was tired, wanted to sleep."

"Couldn't handle partying with you, eh?"

I laughed with her, nodding. "No. She doesn't like my style but she's a great working partner."

"That's good. If you had said that she wasn't, I'd have fired her."

I glared at Alisa. "And I'd have raised such a stink that you wouldn't have been able to smell your own shit."

She smiled and her perfect teeth gleamed in the spinning lights. "I like that you fight me."

"You're nothing, Alisa. Chauncey, Christa and I are family. I'll do whatever I have to do to keep us together."

She smiled again, her grin false and alcohol-driven. "Dance with me."

I didn't particularly feel like dancing but I went out on the floor with her. The music pounded through us and I gave into the freedom of being drunk. New Order segued into Nine Inch Nails and we moved closer, her hands grasping my hips and grinding against me. Her eyes connected with mine and she moved in closer, pulling me against her. I felt what she wanted me to feel. She had a dick and the thought of that made my pussy water. She danced me up against the wall and rubbed her plastic bulge into my crotch.

"Wanna fuck?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea. We work together, you know." I was unnerved by her aggression. I was used to running the show; now, here was someone who was so natural at it, that I was having a hard time denying her.

"I don't care, dumpling." She unzipped my skirt in the club's velvet darkness and stuck her finger under the center of my thong, tracing the edges of my pussy. "You haven't had a fuck in a long time and you need one." I shivered on her fingertip, feeling strange because someone else had control. "So what do you say?"

Some years ago you would have found women with hairy armpits in France, Italy and Germany (particularly Germany!) but the practice is dying out even in those countries. Hairy armpits in the UK are so rare that you'd probably have to travel back to the late 19th/very early 20th Century to see many of them.more...